Paper Planes
by slash mania
Summary: Touya falls from platonic to romantic with one paper plane. Slash: Yuki and Touya.


AN: A new fic!?! Yes! Do I have others I need to work on? Double yes! But hey, I'd like to get my one-shots out of the way. Hope you guys like, it's good.

Disclaimer: If I owned them, I'd be up front and honest with you guys. I'd call you up and ask for my money and mention copyright. But I don't.

Summ: Touya gets a paper plane confession of love and it prompts him to act on feelings he didn't know he had. Slash. WARNING: SLASH Boy + Boy relationships. I don't want to get any reviews whining about the pairing when it is stated clearly that the pairing is what it is.

Paper Planes

Touya had a mind to violently kill whoever's bright idea it was to make paper planes. He bet it was the teacher, but he wasn't so sure. He had been busy trying to learn. They all got a quick introduction to plane making and soon the air was full of flimsy crafts, sailing around the room accompanied by the laughter of his classmates.

Touya was not participating. His sheet of notebook paper remained unfolded and clean, perfectly pristine on his desk. He liked it that way. He was trying to wait it out, exerting his patience and just watching the clock on the wall. He would be free in ten minutes. Ten minutes, Touya could manage that no problem. That was the general idea until a paper plane crashed into the back of his head.

Rage blossoming at the sting of the sharply pointed nose of the craft against his scalp he plucked it from his hair intent on ripping it to pieces. He slowly crushed it in his hand, savoring every soft crumple and sigh the structure made. That was when he saw the wing. He looked at the now wrinkled plane carefully. Yes, it did have a small stylized rabbit down on the corner. He recognized that rabbit and the paper. It came with close to 200 other sheets of paper, all of which Touya had bought for Yukito last Christmas. The plane was from Yukito.

Feeling embarrassed, he unfolded the plane and smoothed out the wrinkles, looking over his shoulder to see if Yuki had noticed the near miss his plane had suffered at his hands. Satisfied that Yuki was not paying any notice, the boy reading something for another class, no doubt. Touya looked down on the creased paper and saw a message scrawled in the middle where he couldn't miss it. It read:

'_I love you._'

Touya read it once. He read it again. He pinched himself to make sure he was lucid and not dreaming. So he was awake, but was he ill? He checked his temperature. It was normal. But when he looked down at the paper the message was still there. Touya sneaked another look at his friend. Yukito was still reading, at times adjusting his glasses or flipping a page but still engrossed. Touya turned back in his chair and couldn't help the litany from running through his shocked mind.

_He can't love me. He's my _friend_! My good good friend! Friends don't just say that!_

But Touya knew that wasn't true. Friends became involved like that. In fact it was said that romantic relationships with friends were desirable, because there is a person who already knows so much about you and you about them. What was the point in dating a complete stranger when you had so much in common with a friend. Touya understood that. But with Yuki?

Yes, he loved his friend in a completely platonic way, though it didn't appear to be platonic anymore for his friend. He enjoyed spending time with him and talking with him: hanging out, just doing stuff. But a relationship? No.

Would he be able to do that? No, to be honest he couldn't. Not just out of the blue. Not like that. He loved his friend but not like that. They would remain friends and Yuki would understand. If so, then why did that thought make him feel sad?

No, he definitely didn't entertain ideas of a relationship with his friend, not until a few minutes ago. And that was fine. Touya had no prejudices against things like that. Everyone wonders. Touya did on occasion, late at night, with no one _with_ him in that sought after more than words sense, he had to wonder. And it was fine to wonder about Yuki. But Touya was straight. _Straight_. He knew what he liked: he liked breasts, and legs, short skirts, lips covered in that gloss they are always re-applying…large brown eyes framed in glass, warm eyes, and gentle words and a demeanor to go with it, a helpful and kind boy who happened to send him from platonic to romantic with one paper plane.

Touya groaned at the irony or the drama of the situation and so he made a descision stealing another glance at Yukito. He was still busying himself with his book. Touya took out a pen and on his clean paper wrote his reply, blushing a little as he signed his name and folded the plane.

He made ready to launch his craft as the others began collecting theirs, putting what had brought them so much fun in a few minutes into the waste basket. Touya took careful aim and flung his declaration of love on paper-wings into the air, and watched it glide in a graceful arc to Yukito and land in the circle of his arms, on his desk. He watched the boy take the plane and unfold it in confusion, seeing the message it bore. And as the bell rang their eyes met and Yukito smiled and Touya smiled back and they left the room together, tentively as they crossed the threshold with their books and bags, holding hands.

Only one person witnessed it. Only one person understood. She walked to Touya's desk and gazed upon the note that took nearly all her courage to write. She hadn't signed it. She was so flustered she had asked Yukito, her classmate who sat next to her for a spare bit of paper to make her plane with. She picked up her note and took it to the trash can where so many other planes lay in a heap, abandoned by their makers. Her writing looked nothing like Yukito's.

'_I love you.'_

Maybe the boy of her affections had deep down, wanted to have something with Yukito. Everyone wanted to be with someone, as she knew too well. And sometimes you don't get want you want. She had wanted the attention of the blackhaired boy, his affections, but had been passed over for his friend. Was Cupid's aim as bad as her's. Her wavering hand that sent the three simple words crashing into him and pushing him into the arms of someone else. She mused. Perhaps it was for the better. Tossing the plane away her words mistaken for someone else's she let them become what everything in the trash was; unwanted and useless to her for all it's perceived meaning. She left the empty classroom, resigned to being the third of an unknown love-triangle.

End.

AN: Sad for the girl, eh? No flames, just reviews. It's T because of language and stuff just covering my bases and all that. Enjoy.


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